


God Help Me, Part 8

by ErinGayle



Series: God Help Me [8]
Category: Jojo Rabbit (2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Use, F/M, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, M/M, Self-Harm, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinGayle/pseuds/ErinGayle
Summary: January is when you wake up from the gauzy excess of Christmas and have to stare the new year in its cold, hard eyes.
Relationships: Freddy Finkel/Captain Klenzendorf, Rosie Betzler/Captain Klenzendorf
Series: God Help Me [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819291
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Tuesday, January 2 & Thursday, January 4

#  1945

###  Tuesday, January 2

Stepping off the early train in Nuremberg, Karl looked up at the clock. He had an hour to get to the regional _Jugend_ office for the winter meeting. He would rather have driven, but the snow on the roads was deep, and some of the signposts were drifted over. The train seemed the most expedient way to fulfill a wretched obligation. At the _Jugend_ office, he was surrounded by happy, chattering people in adult _Jugend_ or Party uniforms. The snatches of their conversations he overheard were nearly as delusional as the lectures and presentations he’d been subjected to at the main headquarters in Berlin. He only saw one other military officer, a man in a Luftwaffe uniform with one arm. If Karl had to lose a body part, he figured one eye wasn’t so bad. The one-armed pilot hung away from the crowd. Karl maneuvered closer to him but saw that the man’s pupils were already wildly dilated, and a look of intense confusion had settled on his face. 

“Oh, another, unfortunate soul,” the pilot slurred as he held out his hand. “Captain Heinrich Kössler.”

Karl shook the man’s hand. “Karl Klenzendorf.”

“Is it time for lunch yet?”

“No. They’re just assembling everyone in the _aula **[1]**_.”

“Oh,” and Captain Kössler wandered away.

Karl took consolation from the fact that he wasn’t completely addicted to anything. He found the darker of the rear corners in the assembly hall and sat down in a squeaky wooden seat. It reminded him of lecture in university. For three hours, he held his tongue and sat still unless he had to stand up and heil. Every speaker started with a heil and ended with a heil. The audience was caught in a rapturous spell that had no effect on Karl. He’d seen what the Party had wrought on the Eastern Front. Karl had little affection for Russians or Poles, but they were still people, as were the Jews. When the meeting broke for lunch, Karl decided he’d had enough. He had other business to attend to in Nuremberg and the first thing was _mittagessen_ at the wine _stube_ on Agnesgasse. [2]

After a satisfying and expensive roasted pork shoulder with cabbage and dumplings, Karl made his way to the office of a private bank, Zurich Leon. Karl noticed a small plaque on the door declaring the bank to also be a consular office of the _Schweizerische Eidgenossenschaft_. Karl preferred the Latin appellation: _Confoederatio Helvetica_. The secretary quietly took Karl’s coat and hat and showed him to a sofa to wait. He was served a cup of real coffee with real cream and sugar. Karl had an idea how they got real coffee. The bank manager appeared in a new, crisply cut suit. “Herr Klenzendorf, Herr Georges St Claire. How may I help you?”

Karl remained seated and sipped at his coffee. He was glad to see Nazi propaganda about greetings had yet to infiltrate this quiet little piece of Switzerland. “I wish to open a new account as well as deposit a new will. I also have a more delicate problem I may need assistance with.”

“Of course.” The banker had checked Karl’s account status before leaving his office. Karl Reichardt Klenzendorf was a very special customer to be well taken care of. Herr St. Claire offered Karl all manner of sweets, liquors, and other drinks while his needs were attended to. It took two hours of forms, notations, assignments, and confirmations before Karl left with a stiff envelope tucked into his breast pocket. He lit a cigarette as he stood on the snowy street and looked around for a _konditerei_.

The _konditerei_ Karl found was a maze of angles and partitions. The prices were also scandalous; however, it seemed the still-wealthy of Nuremberg had found their afternoon retreat. Karl sat at a table with his back to a partition, looking out the frosty window. He ordered a hot apple strudel and coffee with whiskey. While he ate his strudel, he carefully considered how he should engage with Herman Deertz. The man was too dangerous and asked too many questions about Rosie. He assumed the Falkenheim Gestapo knew about his and Rosie’s affair, which lead Karl to ask himself if either he or she would denounce the other to protect Jojo and Freddie. He hated to think he would, but under threat of harm to Jojo, Karl wouldn’t blame Rosie in the least. He just hoped she knew denouncing anyone rarely led to escaping a prison sentence at a camp. Those were as deadly as a death sentence and much slower.

He bided his time in the _konditerei_ , reading the morning newspaper until it was time to walk back to the train station. As Karl left the pastry shop, he made way in the door for two dark haired men, one a heavy set man in a Party uniform and the other sporting a Party pin on his lapel while he leaned on a cane. “ _Entschuldigung_[3],” Karl muttered to them. He walked away briskly, never seeing the Party man nearly knock over a waiter to look out of a window that he might catch a better look at Karl. As for the Party man, he saw a weary, battered officer, hunkered down in his worn greatcoat with a blind but glaring eye. That tired, old man could never be their suave, older brother.

###  Thursday, January 4

Karl tried to quietly stamp the snow from his boots before stepping inside the back door. A trail of wet footprints would be noticeable if Jojo got up in the middle of the night. Rosie motioned for him to hurry. The cold was getting in. “Is winter always this snowy?

Rosie shook her head. “Come on upstairs.” She took his hand and led him up the stairs. He went up them in his coat. In Rosie’s room, she spread his coat on her chair and then kissed him greedily as he took off his _feldbluse_. He slid his hands inside her robe and felt her bare skin. Usually she started the night off in a nightgown and let him take a bath first. 

“You’re more aggressive than usual,” he told her, rolling up his pistol belt and setting it on the desk. He sat down on the bed to take off his boots.

“I didn’t get to see you Tuesday.” Rosie stood in front of him, her robe askew. 

Karl swallowed hard. He leaned forward and kissed her stomach. One missed afternoon meeting, two hours, and she was ready to devour him. With both his boots off, Karl slid his hands across her stomach to her back. His hands eased down over her bottom, and he both kissed her and dragged his rough cheek down her side to her hip. Rosie’s hands cradled his head. He turned to kiss her palm. “God, I love your body.”

“Do you want to take a bath?”

“I don’t know. If I do, you might be more dangerous when I get back, but I really like your bathtub.” Karl felt Rosie’s laugh in her belly, and he kissed her right in the middle. 

Karl got out of bed to find Paul’s pajama pants, which had been flung somewhere in the last hour. After he pulled them on, he reached inside his _feldbluse_ hanging on the valet stand and took out the stiff envelope from the bank. He returned to bed with Rosie. “This is for you,” he said holding out the envelope as he lay back on the pillows.

“What is it?” Rosie took the envelope but didn’t open it.

“Think of it as a late Christmas present.” He watched her uncertainly open it and unfold the papers in it. 

“Karl,” she breathlessly gasped. She was looking at a Swiss bank account card.

“It’s half the money from the publishing house.”

“Karl, this is your family’s money,” Rosie objected.

Karl snorted. “The family that would have let me be arrested and sent to Dachau. I always said I’d take care of you, Rosie. If you need to leave, you and Jojo have enough to get to South America and support yourself decently.”

“We still have the money from selling the _fabrik_ ,” Rosie countered.

“In a German bank? In Reichsmarks? What’s that going to be worth when this is over? That’s Swiss francs, backed by gold.”

“What about Freddie?” 

Karl sighed. “I can’t do anything for Freddie until the war is over. It would be as good as admitting in court we’re gay men and lovers. I don’t want to put him in any danger.”

Rosie stuffed the papers back in the envelope and set it on the night table. She laid down next to Karl and put her arm across his chest while laying her head there. Karl’s arms came up around her. 

“I love you, Rosie. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. Paul isn’t here right now.”

Rosie lifted her head and looked at Karl. “I know, _liebling_. I know.” 

Karl let his fingers run through her hair. “Does Paul still have his rifles?”

“Yes.”

Karl sighed. “Let me take them home and clean them for you?”

“Why?” Rosie asked. 

“I’ll just feel better if I know they’re clean.”

Rosie felt the tension in her body and pressed herself more tightly to Karl. Paul had said the same thing the last time he was home.

[1] Assembly hall

[2] Albrecht Dürer Stube is a highly recommended Franconian stube in Nuremberg’s altstadt. The building survived the war, and the current restaurant was founded in 1951. Previously, it was a wine stube. It’s small, not at all fancy, and reservations are absolutely advised, especially during Advent. Try the pork shoulder or venison. [www.albrecht-duerer-stube.de](http://www.albrecht-duerer-stube.de)

[3] Sorry.


	2. Friday, January 5

Karl heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up in time to see Tekla Braun walk into the office. None of the teens were in the office it being the last day of Christmas vacation. Karl watched her stop to talk to Gerti and barely heard their soft laughter. Gerti’s chair scraped on the floor, and she led the woman toward Karl’s office. Karl looked down at some ridiculous HJ directives and pretended not to have noticed anything.

“Captain K, Tekla Braun to see you.”

Karl flicked his eyes up. “Fraulein Braun,” he said in a cool, official voice as he stood up. “Please, come in. Gerti, close the doors a bit, if you would.”

Gerti was surprised, and it showed on her face. “Of course.” 

Tekla smiled nervously. Freddie had said the Captain was one of the best officers he’d ever been with, but he could be intimidating. Freddie had not said that Karl’s bad eye was so nerve wracking. It made her uncomfortable, and even though he was supposed to be blind in it, she felt like it was still able to look through her. “Captain.”

Karl motioned for her to sit in a nearby chair. “Sergeant Finkle isn’t here.”

“I know, sir. I came by to talk to you.”

Karl nodded. “And, how can I be of assistance?”

Tekla smiled and blushed. “Well, Christmas Freddie was drinking with my father and uncles and of course my mother and aunts and grandmother were there, but we don’t drink with the men. Freddie pulled me into his lap while I was passing around the _lebkuchen_ , then he started telling me how he and I were going to have the most perfect, most beautiful babies in Germany after the war was over. He had his hands all over me and was kissing me like he’d never done before.”

Karl took a deep breath. “I apologize for Sergeant Finkle’s—”

“Oh, no! No. I know he was drunk. Men tend to get handsy when they drink, and he’s a lightweight.” Tekla was smiling affectionately at the recent memory.

Karl forced himself not to smile.

Clearing her throat, she continued. “You see, the thing is now all my aunts want to know when he’s going to propose and when they can set a wedding date.”

Karl felt his stomach fall even though he was sitting down. “Well, for a soldier to get married there’s paperwork: certifications of Aryan descent, doctors’ exams for the bride, signatures from senior offi—”

“I don’t want to get married,” Tekla said flatly. She saw Karl’s shock. “Don’t misunderstand, sir. I like Freddie. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever dated. And, can he kiss. I think he’d be a wonderful husband. But, as soon as it’s safe and the universities reopen, I’m going to Munich or Tubingen or Heidelberg or anywhere and study chemistry. I’m not spending my life on a _fabrik_ production line in Falkenheim and popping out six kids like my mother, God bless her. Frau Betzler was able to get some of the texts for the first few courses for me. And, Herr Thaller has sent away to other libraries for books when I ask. I should have gone to university last year, but my parents were so worried I wouldn’t be safe.” She smiled as though she needed to reassure Karl. “I’m not getting married anytime soon.”

Karl nodded solemnly and with grave understanding. “Frau Betzler spoke very highly of you when I mentioned you and Sergeant Finkle were dating. I’m glad you’ve thought out what you want to do.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to get married someday, maybe even to Freddie if we’re still seeing each other. But, not now.”

“I see.” Karl clasped his hands together. “Do you want me to talk to Sergeant Finkle? Prepare him for your future educational plans?”

“Could you?” Tekla quickly asked.

“Well, I can lay the groundwork, but this should really come from you. And, you should also know that Sergeant Finkle’s family in Dortmund is expecting him to come home and help with the family business, for at least a while. His father’s health is a bit poor, and his three younger sisters are all still at home.” Karl picked up a tin soldier on his desk and began flipping it around the blotter. “Even his older sisters and their children are at the family house since their husbands are in the military. You know he sends them half his pay to help support the family?”

Tekla nodded. “I think his family needs him more than I need a proposal.”

Karl slowly nodded. “That’s a very mature perspective.”

“I do really like him.”

Karl continued nodding. “I assume that you both have a mature, responsible perspective on the need for prophylaxis as well,” he probed.

Tekla shivered. “The last thing I need is a baby, no matter how gorgeous he or his father are. I’m not a Rahm.” She saw the corners of Karl’s mouth turn up for just a second.

“I’ll talk to Sergeant Finkle, but I think you’ll need to talk to your mother and aunts.”

Tekla took a deep, relaxing breath. “Yes, sir. You don’t know how nervous I’ve been about this. It’s so nice to have a boyfriend who’s a grownup. I’d hate to do anything to chase him off.”

Karl finally allowed himself a smile. “I’m happy to be of help.”

At noon, Karl and Freddie retreated upstairs for _mittagessen._ Karl opened two beers. “Tekla Braun came to see me today.”

Freddie almost dropped the _kartoffelauflauf_ he’d put in the oven mid-morning. “She did?”

Karl nodded and smiled as he took a drink of his beer. “Apparently, on Christmas you were drunk and bragging about what great children you and she would be having immediately following the cessation of hostilities. She thinks you’ll be a wonderful husband.”

Freddie set down the pan more heavily than he intended. “Oh, God,” he whispered.

Karl put a beer into Freddie’s hand. “Don’t worry. The only ones pushing for a proposal are her aunts. Tekla’s going to any university to escape Falkenheim the moment it’s safe. She has absolutely no intention of marrying anyone or having a baby before she’s earned a degree.”

Freddie sighed in relief. “You put that thought in my head, Karl,” he accused as he took a sip of beer. 

“But, it was the palinka that let it out,” Karl teased as he hugged Freddie around the shoulders. “What’s in the _auflauf_?”

“Cheese, potatoes, onions, mushrooms, carrots, parsnips.”

“No beets?”

“I swore I’d never do that again, Karl, and I keep my promises.”

One consequence of Freddie being out on Friday evenings was that Karl became more of a habitué of several bars in town. Most of the other patrons were older men who left him to eat and drink in peace. As Karl sat at the dark end of the bar eating wursts and sliced potatoes, he overheard a conversation with a familiar voice. He carefully turned his head a bit and saw Wilhelm Otterbach trying to finish a stein of beer, two men painfully cheering him on, telling him what a great honor he was to the family for fighting like they had thirty years ago. Karl’s stomach nearly turned. He wanted to yank the boy out of the booth and sternly send him home to his mother, but Karl had slipped the January conscriptions into the mailboxes himself. Sighing as he finished his whiskey, Karl waved to the barman. The man brought over the whiskey bottle.

“Is it even legal for that boy to be in here?”

Pouring Karl another drink, the barman nodded. “As long as an adult is buying.”

Karl shook his head. “Shouldn’t be,” he muttered.

“If you’re upset about him having a beer, don’t look now.”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Karl surreptitiously looked toward the Otterbachs again. A woman had just joined the table. She was scrawnily thin with overdone makeup and clothing that in no way protected her from the weather. “That can’t be legal,” Karl hissed.

“None of my business, really. She lives upstairs.”

“And you let her do business here?”

“I just work here.”

Karl couldn’t decide whether to angrily throw money on the bar and leave or stay and keep an eye on a frightened fourteen year old boy. He lit a cigarette and watched as Wilhelm’s relations gave lurid winks and leers and left the boy with the prostitute. After a few moments she and Wilhelm left, taking the front stairs. Karl decided to stay a while longer. He kept an eye on the front of the bar for another double and barely noticed rustling in the back hallway that led out to what had once been a stable yard. The door was locked from the inside. Karl heard the jiggling of the locked door and went to look for himself what was going on.

“Otterbach,” Karl said with a bit of surprise.

Wilhelm wanted the floor to swallow him. He burned with embarrassment and felt cold fear wash over him. “Hi, Captain K,” he said nervously, barely looking at Karl.

“What are you doing back here?”

Wilhelm wiped at his eyes. “Um…”

Karl had a good guess what had happened. “Are you alright?”

Wilhelm nodded.

“Come on and have a cup of tea with me.” Karl wasn’t taking no for an answer and guided Wilhelm back to the bar. The both sat on stools and soon had steaming cups of tea. “Who were you in here with?”

“My father and Uncle Heinz. They said we should have a beer together before I have to go. I didn’t know they were inviting that lady.”

Karl nodded. “They were in the last war?”

“They’re so proud of me,” Wilhelm said in a broken voice. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. She was sitting on the bed and telling me how handsome I was and how special it was going to be, and when I looked up, she was,” Wilhelm looked around. “Taking off her clothes,” he whispered in shock. “Then she tried to unbutton my pants, and I just ran. She kind of followed me, and I almost fell down the back stairs.”

Karl patted him on the back. “You’re ok, now?”

Wilhelm nodded. He picked up his tea and sipped at it. “I was supposed to do it with her, but I got so scared,” he confessed anxiously. “Does that mean I’m…not normal?”

Karl heard a fearful _Does that mean I’m gay?_ and shook his head. “No. It means you weren’t ready. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Plenty of boys do have their first time with a working girl, but they go looking for her. You had it foisted upon you.”

“What about you?”

Karl laughed nervously. “No, that kind of information is off limits.”

“But, what if all the other guys at indoctrination camp are talking about how much they’ve done it?” Wilhelm fidgeted with his cup.

“Well, in my experience, the one’s with the longest, most detailed stories are liars.” Karl glanced at Wilhelm’s disbelieving eyes. He nodded. “They have those long stories because they’ve been sitting around coming up with a fantasy. And, remember, a gentleman never kisses and tells. If someone asks about a woman you went around with, you only say nice things.”

Wilhelm sighed and sipped more of his tea. “What should I tell my father and uncle?”

“What do you want to tell them?” Karl asked finishing his tea.

He shrugged. “Thanks?”

Karl half-smiled. “I think that’s all that’s probably necessary.” He waved to the barman and put some money on the bar. “Are they coming back for you?”

Wilhelm shook his head. “They said to take as long as I wanted to come home.”

Karl tapped his fingers. That was a recipe for mischief. The HJ rules for members said they were supposed to be home by dark unless out with their family. But, was Wilhelm really an HJ anymore? He’d been conscripted. “You want some company to walk home?”

Wilhelm relaxed with relief. “Yes, sir.”

Together they walked out of the bar into the still but overcast night. Neither talked much on the way to the Otterbachs’, however when Karl started to cross the marktplatz, Wilhelm held back. “I don’t like to walk that way, sir. I go down to the end of the platz and behind the memorial and around.”

Karl looked down at Wilhelm and onto the platz. “Why? It’s the shortest way to your house.” 

Wilhelm looked at his feet. “Gestapo office is right there.” He barely pointed at a plain grey building with only a small Party flag outside. 

Karl looked at the boy skeptically. “Come on, Otterbach. They’re about to throw you into a uniform, give you a rifle, and tell you to shoot at people shooting at you. You can walk past the Gestapo office.” He put his arm over the boy’s shoulder and half-dragged him forward. Karl could feel the boy’s reluctance. He looked at the hulking grey building with bland classical elements. It could be anything: a bank, library, school. But, instead it was the seat of fear in Falkenheim. Two SS troops stood at the front on guard duty. Karl thought that was excessive.

Once they were at the side of the building, which sat directly above a sidewalk, Karl turned to look back. He saw a mound of snow from the perpetual snow shoveling around town. “I bet you can’t throw a snowball as high as the second story.”

Wilhelm looked at Karl with sheer terror. “Throw a snowball at the Gestapo?” he whispered fearfully.

Karl shrugged. He scooped up a snowball, packed it tight, and pitched it hard at the side of the building between two windows. The ball exploded in splat of icy white. “Beat that.”

Wilhelm looked around, worried someone might see them. He quickly patted together a snowball and launched it. It fell well below Karl’s.

“You can do better than that,” Karl told him. Karl threw another snowball and hit nearly the same spot. “Come on, get it higher than mine.”

Wilhelm made a better snowball and threw it more accurately, so that it did go higher closer to a window. “Be careful with the snow. There’s gravel left from this summer’s roadwork. They dumped the whole pile right around here.”

“That must have irritated Captain Deertz.” Karl threw another snowball, aiming higher. He was starting to throw to the right.

Wilhelm laughed as he let loose a snowball. “It did. He came out and fussed at my papa every day. My papa is in charge of the _gemeinde **[1]**_ roadwork crew.”

Karl scraped up some more snow and felt a piece of sharp gravel. It was oddly smooth, and when he looked at it in the week streetlight, he could just barely make out a Hebrew letter. Karl had never learned Hebrew, but he suddenly realized the gravel was busted up Jewish gravestones. He packed the snowball very tightly around the broken piece of granite.

Inside the building, Herman Deertz was trying to finish paperwork and heard small thwumps, like snow falling onto the roof. Curious, he went to his office window and pushed the curtains aside just in time for snowball to come crashing through the outer window. He threw open the inner windows and looked down. “Who’s down there!”

Karl was cringing. He had only half-intended to break one of the Gestapo’s windows. “Is that Captain Deertz?”

Deertz opened his broken window. “Klenzendorf! Don’t you dare move!”

Karl looked down at Wilhelm. “Otterbach, say nothing.”

Wilhelm nodded. He couldn’t say anything. They waited for Deertz to slip and slide across the ice and snow. He hadn’t put on a coat or his boots. 

“Captain Klenzendorf!” Deertz was angry that someone had the temerity to throw a snowball at this building and furious that it was Karl with one of the HJs in tow. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, and I’ll pay for the window.”

“Why were you throwing snowballs at the Gestapo headquarters? And involving one of the _Jugend_?” Deertz’s voice dripped with scandal.

“I was the only one throwing snowballs. I was trying to explain the arc of artillery to Otterbach here. He’s off to indoctrination on Monday.”

Deertz highly doubted that Karl was the only one throwing snowballs. “Did you throw any of those snowballs, Otterbach?”

Karl pushed Wilhelm behind him and stepped closer to Deertz. “I _said_ I was the one throwing them. I also promised to pay for the window. That’s the end of it, Deertz.”

“It most certainly is not, Captain Klenzendorf.”

“What? You’re going to arrest me for throwing a snowball through your window? Don’t you think that’s going to look a little petty to the boys up in Nuremberg, not to mention Oberst Doctor St. Johannes at the military hospital?”

Deertz ground his teeth. Karl always had an excuse or escape. “I’ll send you the bill Monday morning.”

Karl winked with his bad eye. “I’ll be happy to pay it from my own pocket.”

Deertz looked behind Karl at Wilhelm. “Good luck at indoctrination camp, Otterbach,” he growled before turning to retreat into the warmth of the Gestapo’s headquarters.

Karl exhaled. “Let’s get you home.”

Wilhelm nodded. “Will you come to the train station on Monday?”

Karl nodded. “Of course, I will.”

[1] community


	3. Wednesday, January 10

For whatever reason, the boys always tried to hang around the HJ building when the girls had a class. Freddie couldn’t understand it, but Karl assumed the boys were just desperate for any chance encounter with a girl. Instead of letting the boys mill about, Freddie had started another gaming tournament. It meant he had to make even more soup on Wednesdays, but Karl had shown him a monthly report from Nuremberg with _Jugend_ participation numbers from around the region. Falkenheim was at the top of the chart.

Karl was furtively smoking outside the front door when a young man with a crutch and a heavy, stiff limp slowly approached. Karl recognized that gait. The man had a new prosthetic. It was probably temporary and a better fitted one still on order. 

“Sir,” the young man said. “Are the girls still here?”

Karl nodded as he took the final drag off his cigarette. “They are.” He was suspicious as to what a man of about twenty might want with one of the girls. He stamped out the cigarette in dirty snow. 

“I need to get my sister, Magda.” He pushed back his wool flat cap some with his cold numb fingers.

“Magda Forster?” Karl knew there was only one Magda, in fact and spirit.

“Yes, sir. I’m her brother, Jakob.”

“Well, Fraulein Rahm has them for another thirty minutes.” Karl let his eye run over Jakob. He wore a coat and shirt too big for him and a pair of pants that were too long. His shoes were old, wet with snow, but dried from too much time between polishing.

Jakob nodded, but his face was trying not to crumple in pain or exhaustion. Falkenheim wasn’t a big town, but for a man with one leg and a crutch, it could be huge.

“Why don’t you come upstairs, if it’s not too difficult? Have a drink.”

Jakob took a deep breath. “Thank you, sir.”

Karl slowly followed the young man up the stairs. He didn’t try to engage in conversation as he could only imagine how difficult it was for Jakob. Jakob gratefully and heavily sat down on the fainting couch, adjusting his prosthetic leg. Karl silently handed him a glass of whiskey. “I didn’t know Magda had an older brother,” he said returning to his desk chair.

Jakob shrugged. “Different fathers. My last name is Gotthard.”

Karl nodded. “How long have you been back?” he carefully asked.

“Last fall I lost my leg in a bombing raid up north. Air Defense. They sent me home in time for Christmas.” Jakob glanced at Karl’s eye. “What about you?”

“Kursk,” Karl tried to answer lightly and vaguely pointing to his eye. “I was with Third Panzer Staff until an unfortunate car accident last summer. Every old injury seemed to reawaken.”

Jakob breathed heavily. “ _Thiers not to reason why, theirs but to do or die,”_ he recited sarcastically in English.

Karl sighed. Not many German students read English literature even when he was in university let alone spoke it well. “You speak English?”

“Some, sir. I wanted to be a teacher. I was set for university in Munich, then I got conscripted. Since I had an _abitur_ , they thought I’d be good at math.”

Karl hoped he wasn’t seeing a future waste of German intellect. Once Jakob had a decent prosthetic, he needed to get off to a university and on with his life. “You still can be. A teacher that is. Herr Gottlieb at the _realschule_ had a gun carriage fall on his leg in the last war. What brings you after Magda?”

Jakob’s eyes teared up. “Our mama works at the _fabrik_. There was an accident today.”

Karl held his breath.

“She knew more about machines than most men. I think it’s why Papa Georg liked her so much. Someone turned on the line while she was still replacing a part. And—” Jakob held his hand up to his eyes to stop the tears. 

Karl wanted to melt. He left his desk and gave Jakob a handkerchief. “I’ll go get Magda,” Karl said gently as he patted Jakob’s shoulder. “I’m going to call the _fabrik_ first.”

Jakob wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He listened as Karl softly spoke with someone on the phone, while sitting at Gerti’s desk. Jakob knew he had to pull himself together. With their father somewhere in U-boat, he was all Magda and their little sister had left. He wasn’t sure how his mother afforded to pay for rent and food. She had seemed relieved when he told her he would get a small pension. Jakob knew he needed a job, but there were few jobs for one-legged men who could barely walk up a set of stairs. 

Karl returned with his arm around Magda’s shoulders. She looked at her brother then up at Karl. “Is Papa’s U-boat sunk?” she asked with alarm, looking from Jakob to Karl.

Jakob shook his head as Karl made Magda sit down next to her brother. “Your Papa is fine, Magda,” Karl told her as he gently held her shoulders. “There was an accident at the _fabrik,_ and your mama was hurt very badly. They didn’t have time to get her to the hospital, and she died from blood loss.”

Magda quivered for a moment. She looked at her brother, barely able to keep himself from collapsing into tears. She looked back to Karl, and even his grumpy, blind eye looked sad. She flung herself around Karl’s neck. Karl kept his head up. As much as he wanted to hold Magda as tight as a father would, he wasn’t her father. He held her as tightly as he thought proper. Magda eventually let go of him. “Can my Papa come home now?”

Karl blinked hard to stop his own tears. He’d consoled a few soldiers who found out that family had died at the front or in an air raid, but they were overwhelmingly adult men. Rarely had they been fresh conscripts. And, here Magda was a fourteen year old girl. “I don’t know, Magda, but I don’t think so. You’ll have to hold on a little while longer.”

Jakob put his arm around Magda, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Where’s Aggy?” Magda asked.

“She’s across the street at Aunt Heidi’s.”

Karl was glad to hear the Forster children had an aunt close by. “I’m going to have Sergeant Finkle drive you home.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jakob managed to say.

Karl left the two in his office and plucked the keys to the _kugelwagen_ from the rack. Freddie was quietly supervising the boys playing war games. “Sergeant Finkle,” Karl called.

Freddie slipped out to the landing. “Sir?”

“Frau Forster just died in an accident out at the _fabrik_. Her son, Jakob, came for Magda. Jakob lost a leg while on an air defense crew last fall. I’d like you to drive them home.” Karl dropped the keys into Freddie’s hand.

Freddie shook his head sadly and stared at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

“How does a sailor get his pay to his family?”

Freddie shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose through the Reichsbank.”

“Let Jakob know that if he has any problems with that or the _fabrik_ paying compensation, to come to us.”

Freddie nodded. He walked with Karl back into the office and saw Jakob and Magda on the fainting couch. Jakob was doing his best to be strong for his sister who was crying again. Freddie neatened up his desk, looked down to make sure his _feldbluse_ was in good order, and put on his coat. 

Jakob saw Freddie standing ready. “Come on, Magda.”

Magda reluctantly stood up. She didn’t want to go home knowing her mother would never be there again. Magda hugged Karl, who hugged her back. 

“I’ll tell Frau Betzler, ok?” Karl offered.

Magda nodded. She reluctantly let go of Karl as her brother was gently pulling her away. “I don’t think I’ll come to the office tomorrow, Captain K,” she said as officially as she could muster.

Karl forced himself to smile. “Ok. We’ll manage. You need to stay home with your family a few days, I imagine.”

Magda nodded. “I’ll see you next week.”


	4. Friday, January 12

Karl paused by the parish church on his way to the ratskeller for dinner. Freddie was out with Tekla like every Friday night. Looking at the dowdy church, Karl could see all the lights on and a few people coming and going. If he walked past without going in, someone was liable to say something. Karl took a deep breath and walked into the church. He reached for the font and genuflected before walking up the aisle of the mostly empty nave. The Forster children were sitting together in a pew, and a woman and man were across the aisle in another pew. 

He sat down about mid-way up the aisle and took out his rosary. He had never met Frau Forster, and instead Karl prayed for Magda and her siblings. And, her father and his U-boat. He needed to come home when this was all over. Karl leaned back in the pew and watched the vigil candles on either side of the plain, wooden casket covered with a white pall. He became lost in his memories of his father’s funeral mass and all the horribleness that had surrounded it: from the moment Uncle Leo told him to the moment he was put on a train to Nuremberg still crying from saying goodbye to Rosie. 

The vesper bells caught his attention again. He was about to stand up, when Rosie appeared and motioned for him to scoot over in the pew. “I’m just leaving,” he whispered to her as he stood up.

Rosie quickly knelt and crossed herself. “No, you aren’t. You’ve dallied too long, my dear Captain. The vigil liturgy is starting.”

“What?” Karl looked around in alarm at the number of people there, mostly women from the _fabrik_ he assumed. He checked his pocket watch. It was seven pm. “I walked in here at six,” he said in confusion.

Rosie shrugged. “Well, you’re committed for another half hour at least.”

Karl sat down and tried to look attentive. He knew that he and Rosie looked like a couple sitting together in the church. They made their affair just public enough to keep suspicion at bay about him and Freddie, but Karl was always nervous someone would say something to either Freddie or Jojo. He could explain to Freddie, but he didn’t think anyone could ever explain to Jojo why a woman, who so faithfully waited for her missing husband, would have an affair with another man. A sob startled Karl, and he saw that Rosie had a handkerchief at her eyes. He slipped his hand over hers in her lap. She gently bent her fingers around his to hold his hand. 

Once the vigil was over, Karl and Rosie stood up and moved up the aisle to Frau Forster’s children. “Do you want to go over to the ratskeller for a drink?” Karl whispered from behind Rosie.

“I’m going to make sure Magda and Aggy go home.” 

“I can wait.”

Rosie smiled over her shoulder but didn’t say yes. Instead she made her way to the front of the church where the girls and their brother were sitting. Karl hung back, unsure of what to say or do. He watched Rosie give stern yet motherly advice before hugging each of Frau Forster’s children. She circled back to Karl through the pews. “About that drink.”


	5. Saturday, January 13

Freddie dropped his hat on the dining table. “Well, that was perfectly miserable,” he said. “And, no flowers. A funeral without flowers is sad.”

Karl unbuttoned his _feldbluse_. “It was. Are you and Tekla going out tonight?”

Freddie wanted to stay in with Karl. “Yeah. She was hinting that I should spend the night with her.”

Karl looked over at Freddie. “Do you want to?”

Freddie shrugged. “I mean, it’s sex. It’s just not what I want. But, Frau Forster was taking on Tekla as her apprentice, and I think Tekla is starting to miss her.” Freddie collapsed into a club chair and stretched out his legs. “Sleeping with two people is exhausting, Karl.”

Karl barely smiled. He’d dated three and four at a time, but he hadn’t given much care to their emotional states. His boyfriends were just there for a good time. He’d poured all his youthful care into Rosie and his favorite lover of the moment. Freddie was a better boyfriend than he had ever been. A better man all around. “It is,” he agreed.

Freddie watched Karl pour himself a drink of whiskey. “You ok?”

“Just remembering my father’s funeral,” Karl said as he sat down. “It was horrible thinking about him. The regimental headquarters took a direct hit from multiple guns. They didn’t know what was who and buried everyone in a common grave. There wasn’t a casket just a black draped portrait. Every time I started to cry, someone smacked me and told me to be a man about it.”

Freddie wanted to wrap his arms around Karl, but Karl had a deflated yet defensive look to him, as if he was afraid of some long-dead and uncaring relative reaching out to hit him from the beyond. Freddie didn’t think he’d ever seen a sadly reflective Karl before. He took out his small sketch book and pencil. Karl heard the lead on the paper. Sometimes, he didn’t want Freddie to draw him, but he never said not to. Freddie needed to draw. It was nearly his natural state. Freddie tried to sketch as quickly as possible, creating a reference. He could go back and do a larger, more detailed drawing later. 

Karl slowly drank his whiskey, trying to give Freddie as much time as possible. He thought he heard the sketch book close. “Is it safe to move?”

Freddie laughed a bit. “Yeah, you can move.”

Karl stood up and rubbed Freddie’s head affectionately. “I expect to be well represented in your retrospective gallery show on art during wartime, Herr Finkle.”

Freddie blushed. He had no idea what a retrospective was, but if anyone ever went through his drawings from the war, Karl would figure prominently. 

When Freddie wasn’t home by eleven, Karl assumed that Tekla had talked him into spending the night. He went downstairs to his office and hid himself and the radio under his greatcoat. Once he had the nightly update, he brought out his maps and plotted a new front on each map according to the BBC and the German radio then compared them to what had been discussed in command and staff the previous week. He heard the church bells ring one am as he reached for his whiskey bottle. 

Banging on Herman Deertz’s front door roused his parents from a sound sleep. Herr Deertz answered in his dressing gown. “What are you doing here this time of night?” he yelled grumpily at the young man in an ill-fitting _polizei_ uniform.

Forgetting to Heil, he quietly said, “I apologize, mein Herr, but we need Herr Captain Deertz. We have a bit of a situation.”

Herr Deertz turned toward the stairs. “Hermina! Wake up that boy of ours! They need him!” Looking back to the young man, “Come in out of the cold. Have a cup of coffee. Hermina, come make coffee!”

Captain Deertz dressed meticulously in his suit, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. He carefully jogged down the steps and found the front hall empty. He heard voices from the kitchen where his mother and father were chatting with the policeman over coffee. “Heil Hitler,” Deertz said with exceptional officiousness. The young man was on duty. He didn’t need to be drinking coffee with the Deertzes.

The policeman hopped up. “Heil Hitler, sir.”

“What’s so important you had to wake up my parents and drink coffee with them?”

“Herman,” Frau Deertz said reproachfully. “Officer Igenstil lost half a lung and his spleen in Italy. He doesn’t need to be on his feet all the time.”

Officer Igenstil blushed a bit. “Sir, it’s about Captain Klenzendorf. He’s not well.”

Herr Deertz perked up a bit. “The _Jugend_ leader? I hope he’s alright. I hear so many nice things about him from the other men down at the bar. Really cares for the kids.”

Captain Deertz smiled as nicely as he could to his parents. “Well, let’s go take care of Captain Klenzendorf, Officer Igenstil. Mama, Papa, don’t wait up for me.”

Herr and Frau Deertz followed their son down the hallway. His mother reminded him to take his earmuffs, wear his fur gloves, and use the new scarf she made him for Christmas. Deertz pleasantly, if crisply, put up with his mother’s fussing. Officer Igenstil got a similar treatment and had to show Herr Deertz the issued uniform gloves before either man could get out the door. Deertz walked away briskly, hurriedly followed by Igenstil. 

Once around the corner, Deertz stopped and took a deep breath. “I swear to God, if you’ve woken me up for no good reason, you won’t be on a daylight shift for a month.”

Igenstil nodded. “We really didn’t know what to do. Sergeant Hofstädtler sent me.”

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“He’s hanging out his office window singing Wagner’s Die Walküre.”

Deertz turned around in a whirl of his black coat. “WHAT!” he hissed. “You got me out of bed—”

“Sir, please, Sergeant H really needs help. We don’t have any keys, and when Sergeant H yelled at him, Captain Klenzendorf completely ignored him.”

Deertz growled low in his throat. “Klenzendorf. Well, come on.” They walked through the icy night and began to hear Karl a block away. “Jesus Christ,” Deertz muttered. He came upon the scene of Karl standing in his open office window, with only a very soft light behind him, a Wagner opera pouring forth while Karl drunkenly sang all the parts dressed in striped pajamas, a dressing gown, and a cape.

“Heil Hitler,” Sergeant Hofstädtler greeted pre-emptively. 

“Heil Hitler. Why am I here?”

Hofstädtler sighed. “He won’t stop, and at least you’re a captain.”

Deertz glared up at Karl. “Where is Sergeant Finkle?” He looked around at the five polizei gathered in front of the HJ building.

“We sent someone, sir.”

Deertz was annoyed his question wasn’t actually answered. “But, where is he?”

“He goes around with Tekla Braun. We sent a man over to her aunt and uncle, the Helmuths.”

Deertz stepped out into the street some. “Captain Klenzendorf!”

Karl interrupted his singing. “Captain Deertz! You can sing Siegelind’s part! We’re coming up to a good piece of it.” Karl was leaning out the window, hanging on to only a piece of the sash.

“Captain Klenzendorf, you must stop this nonsense at once!”

“Why? It’s Wagner! It’s our epic history! Everyone should want to sing along. I tried to get them to be the Valkyries,” he yelled while pointing to the police officers. “But, they said _no_.”

“Turn off that record! This instant! And, come unlock the doors.”

Karl only laughed and broke out into a very bad rendition of Siegmund. “Oh!” he said suddenly. “I need a sword!” And, he ran off from the window.

Deertz glared at the police sergeant. “Hofstädtler,” he snarled. 

Luckily for Karl and Sergeant Hofstädtler, the last on-duty patrolman appeared with a disheveled Freddie. He already had his keys out. Freddie grumpily marched up to the door and opened it. “Captain!” he yelled testily. The police officers and Deertz followed him inside.

“I can’t find a sword!” Karl yelled from the back of an upstairs storeroom. 

Freddie rolled his eyes. “We don’t have any swords, sir.” He tiredly started up the stairs. He and Tekla had been cozily in bed, a larger and more comfortable bed than the one she’d had previously.

“Well, why not?”

Freddie heard things being dropped in the floor and dreaded the mess Karl was making.

“Ow! _Gottverdammt_!”

Deertz was absolutely irritated, but this provocation might be just what he needed to get more information about and possible authority over Karl. They stopped on the second floor landing, and the police officers went to turn off the gramophone and close the windows. “Where is the captain, Sergeant Finkle?”

Karl jumped down amidst them in a flurry of red satin brandishing a ladle. “Right here with my sword, _Nothung_! Drawn from the ash where Wotan plunged it. Hey, who turned off my opera?”

Freddie gently put his hands on Karl’s shoulders. “Captain, sir, it’s almost two-thirty in the morning.”

“But, I’m only on Act One,” Karl told him earnestly.

Freddie took a deep breath and looked into Karl’s eyes. His left pupil was blown wide open, and blood trickled out his nose. “Sir, it’s time to calm down for the night. You’ve got six police officers here and dragged me and Captain Deertz out of bed. And, your nose is bleeding.” He tried to put his handkerchief up to Karl’s nostril.

Karl grabbed Freddie’s arms. “But my cape! It’s fabulous, isn’t it!”

Deertz shook his head. “It’s a piano drape, Klenzendorf.”

Karl looked directly into Deertz’s eyes. “You and your dreary black suits. You have absolutely no sense of fashion. And, I’d be a proud piano to wear this. It’s stunning!”

“Are you wearing makeup?” Deertz asked looking closely at Karl’s eyes.

“No self-respecting opera singer would tread the boards without it. My darling Schatzie taught me how to put on her eyeshadow.”

Deertz looked at Freddie. “Old, old girlfriend,” Freddie explained. “Like twenty years ago old.”

“Hmm. What was her name?” Deertz asked Freddie.

“Her name, Captain Deertz,” Karl said stiffly. “Was Schatzie. And, she was the most beautiful Valkyrie I’ve ever seen. She was also a Rhine maiden.” Karl stepped backwards and stumbled into the steps to the third floor, where he leaned against a wall to steady himself.

Freddie just sighed. “Captain Deertz, can I put him in bed, and we call it a night?”

Deertz crossed his arms. “And, how will you be preventing this from happening again?”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m not going to be able to leave him alone overnight.”

“Hmm. I know the woman he’s been seeing would shove him out the window into the street if he pulled this over at her house.”

“Would she?” Freddie asked genuinely.

Deertz nodded. “You, of course, know who he’s been seeing. Perhaps you should warn her of his antics.”

“No, sir. It’s really none of my business.” Freddie looked over at Karl. “I’ll take the needle from the gramophone, too.”

Deertz looked toward the dark office. He’d really like to give that room a good going over, but he couldn’t do it tonight with only disturbing the peace as a pretext for investigating a Wehrmacht officer. “Sergeant Hofstädtler, are there any charges?”

The police sergeant stepped forward. “No, sir. At least not unless he starts up again.”

“Sergeant Finkle, my nose is bleeding!” Karl said with alarm.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Deertz groused. “Sergeant Finkle, take care of the captain and don’t let this ever happen again! Sergeant Hofstädtler, let’s go.”

Karl jumped to attention. “Heil Hitler!” he said enthusiastically.

The other men promptly heiled him in return. Deertz glared at Karl. Even completely drunk out of his mind, Karl garnered the respect of other men. Freddie followed the men downstairs, apologizing, and locked the door behind them. When he came back upstairs, he stared at Karl, who was staunching his bloody nose with his own handkerchief.

“Are they gone?” Karl asked calmly.

“Let’s just go to bed.” Freddie took Karl by the arm and pulled him behind him. The apartment door was locked, and Freddie opened it. “Where are your keys?”

Karl reached into his dressing gown’s breast pocket. “Right here.”

Freddie sighed in relief. At least the police hadn’t taken them. “Karl, you really fucked with my evening,” he said crossly.

Karl tiredly sat down. He tossed the ladle on the table and unfastened the piano drape from his neck. Casually, he pulled out his cigarette case. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” Freddie said pounding the table at each word. “And, now I can’t leave you alone overnight for at least a little while.”

Inhaling from the cigarette, Karl slowly looked at Freddie. “Which means you have an easy escape from Tekla Braun pressuring you into sex with her, unless that’s what you want.”

Freddie looked more carefully at Karl then sniffed him. He smelled like whiskey, but not like he’d drunk the whiskey. “Was this all an act?”

“Well, I did snort so much Pervitin trying to give myself a nosebleed that I’m not going to sleep until Easter. I had to resort to a hat pin up my nose while looking for my sword.” Karl picked up the ladle and waved it around. “But, I’m not drunk. And, believe me, if I had some cocaine in me, I’d be bouncing off the walls right now.” 

Freddie was almost smiling. “You did this for me?”

Karl barely nodded. “You seemed like you needed a little rescuing, and now you can blame having to get home at a reasonable hour on your drunk, drug-addled, Wagner singing captain.”

“Don’t forget cape and makeup wearing,” Freddie added smiling. He ran his hand over Karl’s hair. “Thanks, Karl.”

Karl stood up and hugged Freddie. “I love you, Freddie. You want a beer, because I desperately need one. It took almost the entirety of Act One to get them to go fetch you. I sang all the parts, and my voice is beat.”


	6. Sunday, January 14

Karl couldn’t sleep or even keep still from all the Pervitin and went for a walk early in the morning, leaving Freddie snugly in bed. He crossed the platz as eight o’clock Mass was letting out and saw Rosie briskly walking through the frigid morning. He tried to slow down so they wouldn’t intersect, but Rosie happened to look over toward him. He saw her smile as she looked down at the ground. Glancing around at the number of people also leaving Mass, Karl decided that after sitting with her at Frau Forster’s vigil and dancing with her in a bar, one more public interaction would simply seal any neighborhood gossip. 

“Grüss Gott, Frau Betzler,” Karl said softly as they came upon one another.

“And, guten morgen to you as well, Captain. Out for a walk in the crisp winter air?”

Karl nodded. “I am. Mass?” he joined her walking toward her house. 

“Of course. I notice you don’t attend regularly.”

Karl chuckled uncomfortably. “The Church doesn’t exactly appreciate a lot of my opinions.”

Rosie smiled as they turned toward her house. The street was nearly deserted, and she slipped her arm through his, much as she and Paul had walked in years past. “I heard an interesting rumor. It seems a certain Wehrmacht officer imbibed a little too much last night and then expressed his love of Wagner in the wee hours.”

Karl slightly smiled. “It’s possibly true.” Rosie leaned her head on him and laughed as they walked. It was a public intimacy that Karl wished he could have with Freddie, or any man he fancied. He suddenly pulled her around a corner, shoved her against the wall of a shop, and kissed her hard.

Rosie kissed him back but still pushed hard against his chest. She finally got him to take a step back. “Karl!” she gasped in irritated shock. 

“That ought to get Deertz and his minions excited,” Karl told her with a wicked grin.

Rosie caught his cheeks in her gloved hands. She stared into his still dilated eye. “Karl, how high are you?”

“I’m not coming down for another day,” he giggled. “I’ll explain tonight if you let me come over.”

“What are you high on?”

“Pervitin.”

Rosie gave him a cross look. She didn’t want Jojo to find out about her and Karl, but she also had come to nearly depend on the nights he spent with her. “You’d better not wake up Jojo.”

“I don’t want to hurt him or for him to be angry with you.” Karl kissed her forehead. “You know how much I love you. I know if it came down to me or him, you’d never choose me. And, I’d never let you.” Karl lifted her chin and kissed her more gently. 

Rosie sweetly looked at him. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“I guess I forgot to wash my face.” Karl laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, swinging them back into the empty street. “I’ll walk you home.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

“Walk down to the river. I can’t stay still, Rosie. I can barely stay quiet.”

“How much did you take?”

“I was trying to get my nose to bleed. Five, six tablets.”

Rosie was familiar with Pervitin, having used it when Paul first went missing and she could barely get out of bed or eat for days. Her pharmacist refused to sell her anymore after a week or so. “At once?”

Karl nodded enthusiastically as he began to walk with the longest stride he could muster. Rosie had to walk twice as fast to keep up with him. “Absolutely. I ate it like candy when we invaded Poland and France, Stalingrad, too, and the retreat from Moscow I was so high when I got shot I nearly died of blood loss because I wouldn’t stop fighting. Kursk, all I wanted at Kursk was cocaine, and in the hospital a speedball, and all I got was morphine and barbiturates, and damn do they make me feel like hell without a pick me up.” He barely took a breath.

Rosie suddenly stopped walking, jerking Karl by the arm. “Karl, you can’t come over if you can’t shut up by tonight. And, I will tell Freddie to keep you home.”

“But, I want to come over,” Karl whined softly. He barely understood Rosie’s veiled threat to tell Freddie she was _Her_.

“I know, but you need to come down some between now and then because I want you to come over, too.”

“I promise, I won’t take anything else.”

“Do you have any cocaine or heroin?”

“No.”

Rosie sighed. “Alright. Remember, come down but don’t show up drunk, or you don’t get one toe in the door.”

Karl saw they were on the corner of Rosie’s street. “OK, but we’re tangoing to your house.”

Rosie dreaded Karl’s knocking. She heard controlled tapping and opened the backdoor. Karl stood there, waiting. Rosie turned his cheek so she could see his remaining eye. It was still dilated but not as badly. “Can you be quiet?”

Karl nodded. Rosie took his hand and pulled him in the house. As usual, Karl stepped into the kitchen and left eggs, venison, and vegetables in the refrigerator. He was nearly grinding his teeth to keep his mouth closed. He followed Rosie upstairs where she locked her bedroom door behind them. Karl dropped his hat on her desk as she ran her hands over the sides of his head, pulling him toward her to kiss him. Karl took off his coat and scarf, tossing them on the bed, and wrapped his arms around Rosie. His hands ran down her bottom then around to the waistband of her wool trousers. He unfastened them and pushed them down while stroking his hands down her sides.

“You don’t want to get a bath first?” Rosie asked.

Karl shook his head. “After I walked to the river and back just being in the same room with Freddie was driving me insane. Usually, there’s more going on when I’m this high. So, I had him drive me out to the compass course, hiked around that, and went fishing out there.” Karl’s hands moved to his own clothes. “It was too cold to even think about fucking out there, and Freddie would have probably pistol whipped me if I’d suggested it. I’m too rough with him when I’m high. I’ve wanted to have sex with someone, anyone, all god damn day.” Karl’s blouse was off, and he yanked his white shirt and undershirt over his head. He pulled Rosie’s sweater over her head before grabbing her in a tight embrace and getting her underwear off of her. All she was wearing were her socks. He picked her up, felt her legs go around his waist and her arms around his neck. Her almost completely naked body felt so warm and perfect wrapped around him. He kissed her hard and deep as he sat down in the armchair with her. His hands groped their way along her back to her bottom. 

Kissing him as she eased into the floor, Rosie easily unbuttoned Karl’s trousers. “I can see that you are quite in need,” she softly teased him.

Karl chanced a look down at her impish smile. He didn’t want to start talking for fear he wouldn’t stop. He groaned at the touch of her wet tongue against the very tip of his erection. 

“Ok, Karl, I can’t anymore.” Rosie reached behind her and patted Karl’s flank, He had breathlessly collapsed on her back. “That’s the fourth time in an hour.”

Karl rolled over onto his back. “I hate how aggressive this shit is making me.”

“Like this morning?” Rosie asked turning onto her side.

Karl sighed. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rosie got out of bed. “Why did you take so many?” she asked as she tossed a pair of pajama pants to Karl and put on her robe. She picked up a handful of things off her vanity table and came back to bed.

Karl had pulled on the pajamas and was leaning back on the pillows. He smiled as Rosie sat astride his lap. She dropped some cosmetics on the bed. “What’s that for?”

“Well,” Rosie said as she picked up her eyeliner. “If you’re going to run around in makeup, I may as well try to teach you how to put it on, again. So, why so much meth?”

He sighed as he looked upward so Rosie could line his eyelids. “Freddie is feeling pressured by Tekla. She really likes him, and she likes bedding him.”

“He doesn’t return her enthusiasm? Look down.”

“I pushed him into it, Rosie. I told him dating women was basically the only way to survive as a gay man. That he had to learn to pass as straight. He’s never been beaten up or attacked for being gay.”

Rosie picked up her eyelash curler. “Hold still. Really? Not even in the Heer?”

Karl couldn’t shake his head with his eyelashes trapped in the infernal curler. “You would be shocked how much sex is going on between the troops. They aren’t gay, they’re just healthy twenty year old men with no girls around. But, I also pushed Freddie to date a girl so that maybe I would feel less guilty over you.”

Rosie brushed mascara onto Karl’s curled lashes. “I guess I’m the other woman.”

“Freddie’s not a woman. I mean, he does all the cooking and cleaning and stuff, but it’s his job to make sure I’m taken care of. He’s not one of those swishy bitches I can’t stand.”

Rosie smiled at Karl. “You and your manly men. Close your eyes so I can put on some eye shadow.” Rosie adroitly smudged and gradated the eye shadow. “But, get back to the meth.”

“Anyway, I was trying to make my nose bleed. I got high and acted like an ass so that Freddie had an excuse not to leave me alone at night. Now, he can honestly tell Tekla he has to go home. It was all going too fast for him.”

Rosie smiled and kissed him. “You always were the sweetest man.” She leaned back and compared Karl’s left and right eye lids. “You think he’ll get married some day and try to pass?”

Karl shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.

“That’s a shame for the right woman.” Rosie held up her hand mirror. “What do you think?”

Karl laughed softly. “I’m always amazed how good you make me look.”

“Your turn.”

Karl picked up the eyeliner. “All the way around?”

“Yes. Are you and Freddie staying together after the war?”

“I don’t know. I think he would like to, but I know it wouldn’t last. I need a forbearing lover who will put up with all the others, like you used to.” Karl knew he was messing up the eyeliner, but he doubted Rosie would care. 

“I was stupid to insist on being the only one if we married,” Rosie admitted softly. 

Karl sat back. “No, you weren’t. You were absolutely right. I was selfish, stubborn, and arrogant insisting I couldn’t be faithful. I still am selfish, stubborn, and arrogant. I haven’t been faithful to Freddie. If anything, he’s in a worse position than I put you in, because everyone in Berlin knew you were my girlfriend and not to get in your way. Every man I slept with knew about your declaration down at the Raven, and God knows they didn’t want to be on the other end of that _sjambok **[1]**_ if it was in your enraged hand.”

“I was just protecting you.”

Karl began putting shadow on Rosie’s eye lids. “And, it worked. Freddie…I have to protect him by ignoring him in public and treating him like every other sergeant. He has to be a secret. If he were a woman, we’d still have to keep our relationship a secret because he isn’t an officer, but it would go easier on us if we were found out. Even after the war, I’ll never be able to even put my arm around him in public unless I’m drunk, and he’s trying to get me home. If we were to live together it couldn’t be in a one bedroom flat like I could with a woman. With the way Paragraph 175 was re-written, just making someone uncomfortable without even knowing it is _legally_ a crime. Damn, I forgot the mascara.”

“Do it now. But, don’t curl my eyelashes. I did that this morning.”

Using the lash comb, Karl carefully applied the mascara. “I should have just ignored my need for men.”

“But, could you have?”

Karl shrugged. “I never really tried. Not even after everything that happened in 1933. By spring of the next year I’d had a string of lovers, men and women, in Königsberg.”

Rosie put her arms around Karl’s neck, looked him in the eye, and kissed him. “Being gay is part of who you are, Karl, just like monogamy isn’t.”

Karl returned her kiss as he pushed the cosmetics away from them. “Are you ready to see my masterwork?” He held up the hand mirror.

Rosie broke out into a broad grin. “Karl, you must be purposely terrible at this! How can you get it all so wrong?” She ran her hands over his thick, messy hair. 

“If I was able to do it right, then Paul would never have let me come over for you to do my makeup before all those cross dressing balls I was dragged off to by the man of the hour.”

Rosie laughed. “You loved those balls! If you didn’t have a date, you took Margot.”

“It was so funny to see men drool over her, start to make out with her and then see their faces when she whispered, _By the way, I’m also a lesbian_ , and flash that utterly flat chest of hers.” Karl was also laughing at memories of better times with so many maddening friends. He fell over into the sheets with Rosie. “I wouldn’t trade those years with you in Berlin for anything.”

“We were utterly outrageous,” Rosie agreed. “I wish it had never ended.”

[1] Rhino hide whip that today is made from flexible plastic. It’s used in riot and crowd control as well as a melee weapon and is distinctly associated with colonial abuse of Africans as well as more recent authoritarian governments. A reasonably hard hit can slice flesh or create a weeping bruise, and repeated beatings can cause death. 


	7. Monday, January 15

Karl stayed awake all night. Even when he closed his eyes, he wasn’t asleep. Once Rosie fell asleep, he tried to stay still but could barely manage. He eventually got out of bed and sat in the armchair with his feet on the footboard and watched Rosie sleep from there. At quarter after five, he showered, drying his hair as best he could. He turned off the alarm clock just before it rang and woke Rosie close to six.

Rosie opened her dry, bleary eyes to Karl sitting fully dressed on the bed with her. She reached her hand up and felt his still damp hair. “You’re going to catch a cold running around like that.”

“I’ve got a hat, and I’ll wrap my scarf extra high.”

“I’m so tired, Karl.”

Karl bent down and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for letting me come over. I know it was an imposition entertaining me all night.”

“I can only imagine what you must be like when you mix meth and cocaine.”

Karl groaned. “It’s not pretty. Working on Rommel’s staff in 1940, as a lowly captain was the low point of my career and the high point of my drug use. I was never so fucking happy to see Poland as I was when I got the hell out of France that summer.”

“I thought Rommel was a genius.” Rosie reluctantly sat up. She needed to lock the door behind Karl.

“You ever see a genius high for thirty days?” He felt Rosie’s head fall onto his shoulder. “Are you going to be ok?”

“If not, I’ll swing by for some Pervitin,” Rosie assured him with a small smile.

Karl had no idea how he was getting through the day, except that he had to. Whenever he looked at words on a piece of paper, the letters suddenly fell into a heap at the bottom. Numbers on the budget reconciliation danced and dipped like a congoing chorus line. 

“Sergeant Finkle,” Karl called from his desk. He was afraid if he got up he wouldn’t be able to sit back down.

Freddie came into Karl’s office. He knew Karl was barely keeping it together. “Sir?”

“Please remove the peacock.”

Freddie glanced at the stuffed peacock shoved haphazardly on top of a file cabinet. “Sir?”

“It’s screaming Mozart’s Requiem in D and is stuck on the _Lacrimosa_. I don’t want to shoot it.”

Freddie approached Karl’s desk. “Sir, where is your weapon?” he asked quietly.

Karl looked up at Freddie. “Right behind me.”

Freddie shook his head as he sighed. “I’m taking the ammo, sir.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

The banging on the doors almost made Karl’s head explode. Freddie ran downstairs to see who was wanting in at two pm. He returned with Herman Deertz. Gerti hopped up and sharply heiled him, but Deertz had eyes only for Karl. “Heil Hitler, Captain Klenzendorf.”

Karl reluctantly dragged his quivering good eye upwards and tried to focus on the blond scarecrow coming for him. He was barely able to stand up. “Heil Hitler, Captain Deertz.” He sat back down and picked up his pen. He was determined to get the letters to make comprehensible words. “How can I help you?” Karl asked rotely. He saw Freddie close the office doors.

Deertz pulled over a chair. “Captain, I have to say that for the past few weeks you have been most disruptive to social order. I am absolutely disappointed in you.”

Karl didn’t look up. “Brother Joseph, the dean of my class in _gymnasium_ would agree with you, I’m sure.”

“Captain! I am being serious! You haven’t been comporting yourself with anything like the dignity required of an officer or _Jugend_ leader.”

Karl finally looked up. His right eyebrow arched high over his blind eye. “How many condolence letters do you write for fifteen and sixteen year old boys every week?”

Deertz was caught off guard. “What?”

“My high has been six, but I anticipate the numbers to start going up now the Allies are pushing hard against the units on the Rhine. Who do you send condolence letters to?”

“That isn’t the point.”

Karl tossed his pen on the desk. “Then what the hell is?”

“Throwing snowballs and breaking windows. Dancing to race music. Disturbing the peace by singing Wagner at two in the morning. Kissing Frau Betzler in an alley when she obviously didn’t want you to,” Deertz listed. “You’re becoming an embarrassment. I’m shocked Frau Betzler will even give you a second glance, let alone become ensnared in your heinous behavior.”

“Dancing the Charleston to a record broadcast by the Bavarian state radio is now forbidden?” asked Karl incredulously. “What were we supposed to do? A stately waltz? You know, I’m becoming quite curious about your intense interest in Frau Betzler.”

“She’s a pillar of the community. She is subject to not only extra scrutiny but extra protection from deviants.”

Karl smiled mischievously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a romantic interest in Frau Betzler.”

Deertz glared at Karl. “I’d like to see your _soldbuch_ and _Ahnenpass_ ,” he suddenly said coldly.

“You don’t have that authority,” Karl retorted quietly.

“Well, let’s just call the _feldjägerkorps_ and ask them.” Deertz felt he could push Karl on this. No one wanted the _feldjägerkorps_ around.

Karl’s lip raised a bit showing his teeth, but he reached into his breast pocket and threw the two documents across his desk. He sat back, a snarl on his lips.

Deertz smugly smiled as he picked up the booklets. He opened the _soldbuch_ to page five. “So, it’s true. Karl Klenzendorf really is the unacknowledged bastard of a graf and the underage family maid.” Deertz opened the _Ahnenpass_ and read through it. “Your von Imrech lineage is quite extensive, though the Klenzendorfs only go back the minimum number of three generations in a quaint little village in Thuringia. Think where you might be were you a legitimate Graf von Imrech.” He smirked as he closed the books and dropped them on Karl’s desk.

“I’d be right where I am now, because it wouldn’t have changed a goddamn thing about my career. I’d still be a politically unreliable Catholic and one of the few officers who ever stood up for the common soldier. I’m surprised you haven’t also encountered suspicions from the poohbahs in Berlin concerning your confessional status. And, you never answered me about Frau Betzler.”

Deertz had never paid a bit of attention to Rosie socially. She was just one more citizen who needed to be watched. “I genuinely hope that Herr Betzler returns home to her someday. _He_ was a gentleman.” Standing up, Deertz easily loomed over Karl. “You need to watch yourself, Klenzendorf. I’ve heard you don’t actually need two eyes in a _strafbatailon_.”

Karl almost decided to let Deertz have the last word. He picked up his pen and went back to his paperwork. “Heil Hitler, and have a good day, Herman.”


	8. Wednesday, January 17

The front door of the _Jugend_ building slammed so hard, the whiskey in Karl’s glass trembled. He finished the letter he was writing and signed it as he listened to the determined footsteps on the stairs. 

“ONE!”

Karl did not look up at Rosie’s shout across his office; though, he was surprised since it was three-thirty in the afternoon. Plenty of kids were in the building. 

Gerti stood behind her desk utterly stunned that Rosie had not returned her Heil. She looked over at Freddie standing near Karl’s office doors. He was waving his hand at Rosie, but she absolutely ignored him as she stormed across the carpet. Gerti and the teens had seen Frau Betzler go on the war path at school and began backing away. 

“ONE student passed the German National Grammar Exam![1]” Rosie was in Karl’s office now. “You and all your shooting and hiking and mushroom hunting this past fall when you should have had them reviewing declensions! How are they ever going to get through their lives after the war if they can’t even write a goddamn grammatically correct sentence!”

Karl calmly looked up. “You know what I’m doing? I’m writing condolence letters for three boys I sent off to indoctrination last month. I have seven more to do for kids I don’t even know. On top of that, I’ve been instructed to devise a defense of the town against the Russians by the hospital commander.”

Freddie could hear Karl’s volume rising and his tone trending to impotently angry.

Karl stood up and leaned on his desk. “Do you know what I have to prevent you and every other woman in this town from being raped to death by a bunch of Russian peasants? Twelve year old boys, some grandfathers, a few amputees, and the functional equivalent of blunderbusses! So, forgive me if I don’t have either the time or the interest in joining you on your goddamn grammar crusade!”

Freddie’s eyebrows flew upwards. “Ok, everybody,” he said turning around. “Out?” He looked at an empty office. The kids were gone, and Gerti was peeking around the door from the landing. 

Incensed, Rosie slammed her hands down on the other side of the desk. “Crusade! The education of the next generation isn’t a crusade we can afford to lose!”

“NO! We’ll just lose the country and any meaningful sense of being German first! Maybe you can write a treatise about the impact of German on Russian grammar in their post-war colonies! It is the language without the verb _to be_!”

Freddie hurriedly joined Gerti, closing the varnished wood doors behind him. They stood on the landing while listening to Karl and Rosie argue. At some point, the pocket doors were slammed shut. Gerti sighed. “Captain’s supposed to be giving a class on how to aim a mortar in five minutes.”

Freddie nodded. “I can do that.” He could still hear Rosie and Karl arguing. 

Their argument petered out when Karl and Rosie agreed that a fourteen year old sent to the front with three week’s training was nothing but callously deployed cannon fodder and a distraction to the older troops. The last half hour they had sat silently drinking on the fainting couch. Karl finished his cigarette. “You haven’t told me who passed.”

Rosie looked at him as if he was stupid. “You know who passed.”

Karl smiled and laughed. “Magda. That girl has a future. I just don’t know if she’ll be the heroine or the villainess.”

“ _Give me the boy for seven years, and I’ll give you the man_. Works with girls, too. I worry about so many kids who could do so much but are instead thrown into the maelstrom.” Rosie leaned her head back on the fainting couch. She had her feet on a rickety _stube_ chair. “Is this the whiskey I gave you?”

“Yeah. It’s really good. Where’d you get it?” Karl sipped from his own glass. He’d never told Rosie he knew about her liquor stash. He lit a new cigarette only for Rosie to take it and start smoking.

“My cellar. I bought a lot of liquor in 1939, too. I told everyone it was for the victory party. And, we had two. One for Poland and one from France.”

Karl looked over at Rosie in disbelief. He could only wonder how much liquor she’d originally bought. “You’re kidding.” He took back his cigarette.

Rosie shook her head. “It’s good of you to write condolence letters,” she said as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“It’s an empty gesture born out of an etiquette book. What the hell else can I do?” Karl looked at his pocket watch. “Well, I missed my mortar operation class. It’s quarter to five.” 

Rosie finished off her whiskey and sat forward. “I have to go. Let me know anytime you need a new bottle.”

Karl shook his head. “You need that horde to keep you and Jojo fed, especially once the war ends. We’ll be lucky if the French let us have the potatoes and onions we grow in the back gardens.”

“You think it’s going to be that bad?”

Karl nodded. “If I were you, the first thing I’d do is leave for Switzerland. And, the second thing I’d do is leave for South America. Is Markus von Damerau still around?” he asked cautiously

“He sends me a Christmas card every year. I don’t get it until July. Still never remarried.”

“You could do worse than a man with five thousand head of cattle in Argentina.” 

“It’s ten thousand now. His uncle died and left him that ranch as well.” 

Karl groaned. “I’d shoot myself.” 

“I’m waiting for Paul. He’ll be back,” Rosie tried to say with certainty.

Karl ran his hand reassuringly over her back. He could feel too much of her spine despite the thick sweater she was wearing. He briefly wondered why she kept losing weight but assumed she was more determined to keep Jojo healthy. “Nothing could keep him away.”

Freddie quietly set a plate of something approximating goulash in front of Karl. “That was some argument you and Frau Betzler had today.”

Karl didn’t want to talk about it. He felt guilty and embarrassed that so many children had seen or heard him lose his temper, with their assistant headmistress of all people. “I should have handled it better.”

“She left happy.”

“She wasn’t happy. She was exhausted.” Karl poked around on his plate. “Is this leg meat?”

“Simmered all day.”

Karl pushed his plate away from him. “I don’t know what to do, Finkie. I look around, and it’s all coming apart. We can’t keep these kids decently fed even once or twice a week without shooting every rabbit and deer up here. There’s no heat for half of them. Most have rubbish shoes and coats. And, I’m still supposed to hand out conscription notices, teach kids to use mortars and guns, and cheerlead a Party that has ground our country into beggars.” 

Freddie slid his hand over Karl’s shoulders. Karl hung his head and closed his eyes. Freddie smoothed his hand over Karl’s worried forehead. “You do what you can,” he reassured Karl softly as he kissed his cheek. 

He left Karl to eat but noticed that Karl’s mood didn’t improve with the evening. Freddie didn’t ask and simply pushed the beds together after dinner. Karl had a few drinks before going to bed. Once Freddie got in bed, Karl moved close to him, putting his head on Freddie’s chest. Freddie waited to see if Karl was going to sleep. Karl’s thumb gently stroked Freddie’s stomach. Freddie slowly nuzzled Karl’s hair. Finally, Karl turned over and kissed Freddie fully on his lips. 

[1] This doesn’t exist.


	9. Sunday, January 28 & Monday, January 29

###  Sunday, January 28

Karl decided he was tired of the crunch of icy snow beneath his feet as he walked through the night to Rosie’s house. What was beautiful and magical in December was now just gray and irritating in late January. He was ready for spring and the end. The Siegfried Line was still holding, but Karl knew it was only a matter of time. The Americans had too many men and too much materiel to throw at the Western Front. There was no outlasting them to an exhausted truce this time around. The French and the Russians would see to that. 

“Heil Hitler, Captain Klenzendorf.”

Karl looked up in the dark. “Heil Hitler, Captain Deertz.” Karl didn’t slow down. It was cold and damp, and he didn’t really want to talk to Deertz.

“Late night stroll?” Deertz asked as he moved to intercept Karl.

Karl exhaled in frustration. “Is there something you need from me?”

“No. Just out enjoying a snowy, moonlit night. What’s in your package, there under your arm?”

“Leg bones,” Karl answered flatly.

“Leg bones?” Deertz asked with genuine curiosity. “What do you need with leg bones?”

Karl’s right eyebrow arched up in irritation. “They’re for my coven meeting. We need them for the sacrificial rites to conjure up the spirits in order to get strategic advice from Odin and Thor.”

Deertz rolled his eyes. “Captain, really.”

“Can’t a man have a damn bit of a privacy, Deertz! I haven’t been this over-supervised since I was eight. Anything else?” Karl snapped.

Deertz realized he wasn’t going to get even a morsel of information from an annoyed Karl. “No. Have a good evening with your coven. Heil Hitler.”

“Heil Hitler,” Karl grumpily replied as he went on his way. 

Deertz watched Karl walk away, not even taking a roundabout walk to the Betzlers’. Deertz assumed the leg bones were for Rosie, though what she needed with leg bones was still unclear, if those were leg bones.

Karl knocked on the back door as usual. Rosie opened it and ushered him in out of the cold. “You look awfully grumpy,” she said kissing his cheek.

“Deertz should have been a prison warden.” Karl handed Rosie the newspaper wrapped bones and fetched out a bag of onions, leeks, and parsnips from his big pocket. “So, you can make broth for your soup.”

Rosie smiled and kissed him again. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll roast the bones overnight.”

Karl nodded and followed her to the kitchen. He slumped in the doorway while he watched her put the bones in a pan and then in the oven. Sighing, Karl rested his head on the door jamb. “Do you ever wonder what happened to them? All the people we used to know.”

Rosie walked over to Karl and put her arm around his chest. He looked down into her glistening eyes. “No, because if I did, I’d cry all the time,” she haltingly whispered. Rosie half-smiled. She took his hand in hers and pulled him after her. “Come on upstairs.” 

While Karl soaked in Rosie’s bathtub, he heard the obnoxious drip he’d heard for the last few evenings he’d been over. He’d told Rosie. It was the cold water faucet, and now that he had noticed the drip, it might as well be dripping on him. If he’d had a cigar and a bottle of whiskey, the drip would not have interfered with his bath. As it was, Karl got out, dried off, and walked into Rosie’s room where his uniform was on the valet stand and his boots in the tray, as usual. 

“Rosie, did Paul leave any tools up here?”

Rosie, in a sheer white gown, looked up from a photo album. “In the hall closet. Why?”

Karl only nodded and went to get the toolbox. His apartment in Berlin had a wonky faucet he was always tightening. No matter what he did, he could never stop the leak. The plumber’s solution had been to simply redo the entire bathroom. As much as Karl hated the perpetual drip and could have lived with Rosie for the renovation, he hadn’t wanted to deal with a communist plumber ripping up his bathroom. 

Rosie leaned in the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“Your plumber hasn’t been,” Karl said as he began unscrewing the faucet.

Rosie sighed. “Deertz hung my plumber just after New Year’s. I haven’t had time to find a new one.”

Karl felt stupid and callow, but he didn’t say anything. As he unpacked the faucet, he noticed that Paul had everything needed to fix it labelled in order. “How many times has Paul had to fix this?”

Rosie smiled. “About every two to three years. He fixed it when he was home in April.”

Of 1942, Karl thought to himself. “Well, you should be good until 1947.” He glanced up at her and smiled. Karl repacked the faucet, tightened it, and then tested it a few times. Still wrapped in a towel, Karl put away Paul’s toolbox. He hoped there would be someone around to teach Jojo how to use the tools in it. “Damn, I’m trying, Paul,” he whispered to the slightly battered metal box.

Rosie was sitting on her bed with the photo album. She smiled at Karl. “Do you want to take a look?”

Karl was hesitant. “Can’t hurt.” He sat down behind her with his arms around her and his chin on her shoulder. “And, who is that pretty girl?”

Rosie blushed. It was a photo of her in the Grunewald laying back on a blanket in a sundress. “And, here’s one of us with Margot, Lise, and Sasha.”

“He was so weird,” Karl said, still exasperated by the jazz piano prodigy. “Did he ever come back from Canada.”

“After Margot died? No. Their parents immigrated to Canada. I found a record by him once in a shop about eight years ago. It wasn’t jazz but Tchaikovsky. It was beautiful.”

Karl touched the picture. “Why do you still have this?”

Rosie shrugged as she held back a few tears and turned the page. “I can’t get rid of them, Karl. I can’t erase my whole life. I keep them hidden. Look, at this one.”

Karl smiled painfully. It was them and Herr Kallweit, the print shop foreman, sitting in his old office drinking beers. “You should have gotten rid of these, Rosie.”

Rosie wiped a tear away. “We ran around with homosexuals and lesbians, the outrageously hedonistic, socialists, radical poets and reporters, Comrade Herr Kallweit.”

Karl half-laughed. “He always promised they wouldn’t hang me as an enemy of the proletariat.”

“If I burn all these photos, our old friends will be gone forever. It might be all that’s left of them.” Rosie felt Karl’s arms around her and relaxed into his embrace. “I don’t know how to even find them when this is over,” she sobbed.

Karl closed the album and set it on the floor. Rosie turned around in his arms and cried against his shoulder. Karl knew she was crying about more than their old friends.

###  Monday, January 29

Karl walked into his apartment, hung up his coat and hat, and sat down heavily in a club chair. He took out his cigarette case and lit one. Freddie came out of the bathroom from shaving. “Morning, Karl.”

“Freddie.”

“Kind of early for a cigarette, isn’t it?”

Karl leaned his head back and exhaled a long plume of smoke. “Do you know what I did last night?”

Freddie didn’t want to hazard a guess. “You want some breakfast?”

Karl nodded. “I went over there. Had a hot bath. Fixed her drippy faucet. Looked at a photo album with her. Made love to her. Put on her husband’s pajamas and slept in their bed with her.”

Freddie sighed. “Pretty average evening.”

“Exactly like her husband would have spent with her.”

Freddie sat down on the arm of the chair and took Karl’s hand in his. “Karl, do you think you might be getting too domestic with her? Taking over food is one thing, but fixing the drippy sink? Looking at photo albums?”

Karl shook his head. 

“Are you in love with her?” Freddie asked in a whisper.

Karl turned his eyes to Freddie. Freddie saw regret in his good eye and abject pain on his face. “I wouldn’t marry my Schatzie because I needed men so much, as much as I loved her. And, now, I’ve done it again. I let myself fall in love with you, but I still desperately desire the sex and affection of a woman.”


End file.
